


Not for sale

by Stardust_66



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crack, Enemies to Lovers, Hendo is the mother hen, Humor, M/M, Milly is rich, Misunderstandings, Trent is a pup, Virgil is not very helpful, adam is a lawyer, andy is angry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-19
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:40:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24223696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stardust_66/pseuds/Stardust_66
Summary: In the back alley of a club, 18-year-old Trent mistook Andy the-bouncer-on-his-way-to-work as a hooker.
Relationships: Trent Alexander-Arnold/Andrew Robertson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [不给嫖](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23912659) by [fayekohara](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fayekohara/pseuds/fayekohara). 



> A wonderful crackfic written by fayekohara, who kindly gave permission for me to translate it into English! Hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> Sorry for the mixture of US and UK words! I tried my best to make the translation of their dialogue sound more true-to-character, while still keeping most of the language-based humour and charm from the original fic.
> 
> Also I think this is hilarious crack even if RobboxTrent is not your top pairing (or maybe I just miss these guys too much! xD) Also a hint of VirgilxHendo imo, but I only included the author's original tags.

The police station after midnight smells like beer, vomit, and microwaved pizza. Nobody likes the late-night shift.

The officers on duty were all weary and sluggish. The middle-aged chief inspector lifted his head up from behind his desk, gave them the once over with steel-blue eyes through wide-rimmed glasses, and asked, solemnly but with curiosity, "What was it?"

Andy thought this old man must enjoy quite the esteem within the station, since the officer who dragged them there by the collar stood up straight when answering, "A brawl, Sir, on Dale Street. "

 _What brawl_ , Trent thought with his head hung low, feeling hard done by, _when I was the only one getting beaten up._

Fighting and getting hit was still novel to an 18-year-old lad, but the spectacled chief inspector was evidently used to it. He organized the documents at hand without looking up, while pointing to a public service announcement poster on the far wall, "Bring them over there. Read it aloud, what does it say on the wall?"

The two lads dragged from the chief inspector's desk to the wall looked at the slogan on the wall, printed in red on a black background, and surprisingly stayed silent in tacit understanding.

Of course, the officer behind them was not very patient, and yelled, "Read!"

Those two facing the slogan - one discreetly rolled his eyes, the other was startled and almost jumped - both reluctantly read out loud at the same moment, "Do not fight. Loser goes to hospital, Winner goes to jail."

"Enough," Spectacled Chief Inspector said, "Go give your statements."

"Excuse me," Trent carefully and politely said, "Can we leave after giving our statements?"

30 minutes later, Trent stared at the metal bars in front of him, and realized they couldn't leave after giving their statements, indeed. He thought a lot in detention, from am I being detained or jailed, to why do I have to be kept here when I'm the one being beaten up. When his mind wandered to whether the incident today would affect his chances in qualifying for a position in the public service, the door to the station was pushed open. A familiar tall and strong figure bursted onto the scene.

Trent often complained about the other guy's nagging and overprotectiveness, but in distress, he finally realized what it meant to have a friend in need. Just as he was about to jump up and shout Hendo Hendo I'm here, he realized he really isn't in a state to meet him. But it was too late, as he was already spotted from the other end of the station. The man's jaw dropped to his knees, and immediately rushed to him in a few big strides, then opened his mouth to deliver a bonus pack of questions - 

"Oh my dear God, Trent? Why are you looking like this? When did it happen? Does it hurt? You're not blinded, are you? How on Earth do I tell your parents? Who beat you up? Huh?"

Trent got jabbed on his left eye, and was already having a headache. After listening to this chain of questions, his head is hurting from the inside out. He selected a question out of the bunch, pointed to the wall on his left, and answered, "The guy over there did."

Jordan turned around to look at the young man in the next detention room, who was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was pale with comely features, and nothing in his appearance showed he could give someone such a rough beating. Jordan turned back to ask Trent, "Why did he beat you up?"

Trent ducked his head, pursed his lips, and pretended to be an ostrich.

"C'mon, tell me."

The Scouser born and raised in Liverpool mumbled so much to make the already incomprehensible Scouse even more incomprehensible.

Before Jordan could speak, a thick Scottish brogue came from next door, and helped him answer the part he didn't want to talk about:

" 'e came up to me 'n asked how much per night. Ye tell me whether 't was right to giv 'im a beating!"

Jordan blinked in confusion. The content was more incomprehensible than the accent. "Excuse me but I don't understand. How much per night for what?"

"I-It's just how much per night-" The kid knew there was no escape from it, and stumbled on with his head ducked, "I-I-I asked him whether an entire night was okay."

Perhaps it was because he had been going to bed after 1 o'clock for an entire week, or because it was now well after midnight, but Jordan felt his brains stopped working. He understood all the words in the sentence, but didn't comprehend a single thing. "Sorry but I don't follow. What the hell happened?"

"Pfft, " The Scottish brogue next door sounded particularly irritated, "Lad thought I was a hooker. 'e wanted to fuck me. Now do ye understand?"

Trent hung his head low, afraid to look at the expression on Jordan's face. After a while of not getting the expected explosive reaction, he summoned the courage to raise his head, only to see the other man still planted to the ground, maintaining the dumbstruck expression on his face - his mouth slightly ajar in shock, just enough to stick in a Cheetos. Jordan took quite a while to find his voice back, as eloquent as he was, now stuttering, "You......You...Why?" He felt like he already asked too many questions since stepping into the room, but he had nothing else to say other than questions. "Where did you learn to say things like that? What got into your head to mess around like this, when you should be focusing on doing well in school?"

Trent was not willing to answer any of the questions above. Clever lad that he was, he avoided the hard ones and redirected the focus, "But he's got no right to beat me! No deal means no deal, I get it. It's not like I forced him into it or anything."

Unsurprisingly everyone present fell into his trap. The Scot next door was the first who was misdirected: "Whadya mean no deal? I'm not even a hooker!"

Then Jordan got distracted also, and popped his head into the detention room next door, "Then what is your profession?"

"Nightclub security."

No wonder he gave him such a beating. Jordan glanced at the kid's black eye sympathetically - it might take weeks to heal. Oh well, it wasn't illegal prostitution, so not that big of a deal. Feeling relieved, Jordan immediately started to amend the situation. "So it was all a misunderstanding then? I apologize to you on Trent's behalf. " Then he turned things around placatingly, "But mister, you shouldn't have hit him." 

Andy went quiet. He knew he had a bit of a temper - but who could be in a good mood on their way to work? He was running late already, and clocking in five minutes late meant losing a hundred quid. That was the reason he took a shortcut and went down the back alley, and got abruptly stopped. The kid reeking of alcohol asked without premise how much he cost per night. How could Andy know he genuinely wanted to fuck him? He naturally thought it was mockery - after all he's pale-skinned and hasn't got much to brag about in the height department, both factors leading to trouble in recent years. So in a fit of anger he leapt and thrust a fist forward; then the shriek from the kid, knocked down to the ground and covering his eye, quickly got the passing officer's attention.

Andy replayed the entire incident in his mind, thought of the wage loss caused by his no-show, the fine he would have to pay to the police office, and how he would be mocked by the lads for a whole year if they ever hear about how he was mistaken for a hooker......The more he thought, the angrier he got. _Fuck it_. "I already hit him. What are you gonna do 'bout it?"

Jordan raised an eyebrow, "If that's the case," He quickly took out his phone and opened the contacts list. "Hang in there Trent, I'm getting you a lawyer."

"Where did you meet a lawyer?"

Jordan's glare was saying "Oh please", "It's Adam."

"He got his license?"

"No, still an intern." Jordan answered while typing swiftly on his phone. "I'm just getting him here for show."

_Shit, they are even bringing in a lawyer, and who knows where my backup is wandering about._ Andy agonized against the cement wall on the other size. Moreover, an intern lawyer is still a lawyer. If they really go to court, he might actually have to sell his body to afford a lawyer. Andy thought more of it, and truly felt sorry for himself.

He was reminiscing on how he left his home in Scotland all alone to find work in Liverpool, stranger in a foreign land, roaming aimlessly and hopelessly, no familiar face in sight, and not a single soul to rely on......At that moment, the door to the police station was pushed open once more.

The man who walked in this time was considerably taller than Jordan, with dark skin and shiny long hair which was neatly combed into a small bun at the back. He strode in with such an aura even the Spectacled Chief Inspector couldn't resist taking a good look from behind his desk. Trent met his gaze and immediately knew he would be tough to deal with; his biceps underneath the T-shirt seemed larger than Trent's head. If they were to get into a fight, Hendo and himself together still wouldn't be able to handle him.

Jordan, fearless as always, looked the opponent up and down, then stared into his dark eyes with an icy gaze that was both threatening and piercing. Then he looked away and appeared distant and proud. However, the newcomer didn't seem to pay him any attention, as he walked directly to the detention room next door, and asked through the metal bars, "Who did you beat up? He still alive?"

Unless Andy's eyes weren't functioning properly, it seemed to him that his rescuer was suppressing a grin. But by now he was in no mood to dig deeper, and wearily pointed to the detention room on his right, "The lad next door. See for yeself."

The man ignored the death glare sent by Jordan, and popped his head over to check the seriousness of the injury. Then he said to Andy lightly, "Oh, just a black eye then. And I thought you were in deep shit. Just let him give you one also, to settle the score."

"Shut up. Did you bring the money?"

"What money?" The six-foot-four (1.93m) man wore a facial expression as innocent as a third-year primary school boy.

"Money for the fine."

"You didn't mention there'd be a fine." Came the natural response.

"What else did you expect?" Even though Andy was the one giving out the blows and did not get hit himself, he felt a throbbing headache. "I mean, if you didn't even bring money then why are you here?"

"To boost your morale." Was the confident reply.

After a whole night of ridiculous events, Andy finally snapped. He held his head in his hands and crouched down in misery, thinking why on Earth was he friends with someone like this. He whined for a bit, whining about both the strange logic of the other man and the poor taste in friends he himself had. Then he maintained the head-holding posture, and spoke in a tone that conveyed he was beaten up by life itself, "Virgil, do me a favour. Call James for me. Tell him to bring money." Then he anxiously added, "Please tell me you at least brought your phone, yeah?"

He did bring his phone. Virgil glanced at him and started dialling the number. He was really tempted to tell Andy that, the way he was holding his head and crouching down on the ground really resembled those girls caught at the scene of illegal prostitution. If he didn't tell him, he wouldn't be much of a good friend; but it he did, it was likely he would get a few punches once Andy got out of here. He thought about it, and decided to let it go.

Upon hearing the news, arm-hearted James on the other end of the call immediately promised to bring a cheque as soon as possible. That finally helped calm Andy's nerves. Virgil, noticing Andy wasn't as freaked out as before, was still somewhat curious (gossipy) about the events of the night. So he gently asked, "Why did you beat him? He seems quite a young lad to me, and not the troublemaking kind. "

Andy was still sitting on the ground, resting his chin on his palm. With admirable patience, he repeated the well-told cause of the incident once more, without looking up, "He came up to me and asked how much I cost for a night."

The inquirer went silent. Andy sensed something was off instantly. Sure enough, when he lifted his head, his awful friend couldn't hide his grin at all. Virgil tried to adjust his facial expressions, and then asked in earnest, "Then why did you beat him? Couldn't agree on the price?"

" _Virgil van Dijk_ , I've beaten up one guy tonight already. I don't mind adding you to the list."

Virgil glanced at him in amusement, and slowly redirected his gaze towards the blond man in front of the detention room on the right. His counterpart met his gaze levelly, and showed no intention of breaking the ice. So Virgil held out an olive branch -- "Hi." The blond man nodded politely and with restraint, looking particularly English. Virgil was fascinated, and offered his right hand in introduction, "Virgil."

-TBC-


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy it!
> 
> All translation mistakes are mine, and credit goes to the author. 
> 
> Let me know if you catch any typos!

Feeling obliged to return the politeness, Jordan shook his hand, "Jordan." He purposely added more force in his handshake, but the big guy opposite him had no change in expression, and was as solid as a metal wall; Jordan couldn't help but feel some respect for him.

Virgil casually put his hand back into his pocket, leaned against the wall and pointed his chin towards Trent's detention room. He asked Jordan, "Who are you to him? Don't tell me he's your son."

"His football coach."

"Way more responsible than most coaches, huh."

"His mother is a distant relative of mine. I'm looking after him when needed. " Jordan never thought he'd be explaining his family tree to a stranger here, and asked in return "What about you guys?"

"Roommates." Was the curt response. Virgil took another look at the icy expression on Jordan's face, and surprisingly found some tenderness - like that of a mother hen guarding her chicks. He figured the guy couldn't be completely too stubborn and unreasonable, and said, "Hey, Andy is a good lad. He just has a short temper. I suggest we settle this privately.

He did not expect the English guy to be unreasonably stubborn indeed. "We will discuss that with you when our lawyer is present. " After saying that he looked away to end this not so pleasant negotiation, and turned back to continue interrogating the kid in the detention room. "The police officer isn't here yet. Just tell me, why did you want to buy him for the night?"

Trent was also stunned by this question. He scratched his head, thought for a while, and stumbled, "Because...Because he was the best looking one on that entire street."

"Whoa, I've got to _thank_ you then." was the immediate response from the next room.

Jordan ignore it, and focused on dealing with Trent, "That's not what I was asking. I'm asking what got into your head to find a hooker?"

Unsurprisingly, Trent went silent again.

"Talk."

Trent was thinking what the lowest sound a human was capable of making was, and hoping he could break the record, "Because I want to stop being a virgin."

Jordan felt his brains weren't keeping up. The last time he couldn't follow the plot was when he was watching _The Notebook_. Trent clearly noticed his puzzlement, and explained very, very quietly, "None of my classmates are virgins anymore. I'm the only one. I'm going to uni in September. I don't want to go to uni as a virgin." 

"Huh? Ye a virgin?" Andy, who until then was laid out flat on the floor like a dried up jellyfish, immediately lifted up his head.

"Why were you able to hear that?" Trent mumbled a complaint about Andy's excellent hearing capabilities.

"There's no walls here." The Scot mumbled back, imitating his tone.

Jordan, who had the spotlight stolen from him multiple times, couldn't bear it anymore. He popped his head over and asked, "Sir could you stop meddling in this?" Then he turned back to give some advice to the kid desperate to lose his virginity, "Trent, if you want to lose your virginity, get into a relationship, go party, use Tinder."

"How do I have time for a relationship? I'm either studying or playing chess or playing football." The kid's grievances were justified. "Plus, guys on Tinder are weird. They send me eggplant emojis with no preamble (🍆💦)."

Next door, Andy was almost rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "Sure, mate. How are eggplant emojis more weird than asking someone how much they charge per night?"

"Could you please..." Jordan was about to ask him to shut up, but on second thought -- "In fact, I think you have a good point. Yeah, Trent, you were creepier than sending eggplant emojis. Besides, where did you get the money? How could you face your mother if you use her money for something like that?"

"I didn't use my mum's money. The prize money for the last chess championship was five grand. I figured it should be enough."

Andy couldn't believe his ears. "You wanted to buy me for merely five grand?"

And before Trent could respond, Virgil, who leaned by the doorway and listened to the entire interrogation, spoke without batting an eye, "Five grand is not bad, Robbo. I'd agreed if I were you."

Everyone, including the police officers who were pretending to organize their documents but were in fact paying close attention to the conversation, stopped in their tracks.

Andy opened his mouth, said, "?"

Trent also said, "?"

Jordan followed, "?"

Virgil shrugged, and replied casually, "Just saying. He didn't buy me."

"He didn't buy me either! Andy, who by now couldn't clear his name even if he jumped into the River Mersey, was still in defiance. "He didn't pay me into prostitution! I didn't let him! My arse is not for sale! Arrggh this is driving me mad!"

"Alright chill out. James will probably be here soon. I'll ask him to hurry." Virgil took out his phone calmly and took a glance, then suddenly remembered to ask, "Oh by the way, how much is the fine?"

Andy choked inperceptibly for half a second, "Five grand."

Virgil tried to say something, but stopped himself.

"......Just spit it out, man."

Virgil hesitated, but finally went with, "Look, if you'd have agreed back then, you could've earned five grand. Now you have to lose five grand instead of earning it - and that is not even including the medical bills you'd have to pay them. You're in the red."

Of course Andy knew he was losing money and in the red, but for the life of him he would never back down. So he stubbornly retorted, "Why don't you go make that money then, if you think it's such a great deal?"

The Scouse kid next door felt brave all of a sudden, and interrupted, "No offence, but he's not my cup of tea."

"Did you hear that?" Virgil said to Andy in mock jealousy. " _You're_ the young lad's cup of tea."

When Adams left his agency for the day, the Moon was already high up in the sky. Worn out, he hurried to the police station without even finding time to use the loo. He pushed the door open, and before he had the chance to ask the receptionist about Trent, someone called out his name: 

"Ey, Adam, fancy seeing you here."

Adam turned around towards the voice, and saw a familiar face. "Oh? James, what a coincidence." The man called James was holding his suit jacket and a briefcase, looking travel-worn himself, and asked, "What are you doing here so late at night?"

Adam sighed and answered, "A friend got beaten up. I'm here to file a lawsuit. You?"

Perhaps Adam was imagining it, but he suspected James' smile froze as he paused before answering, "A friend beat someone up. I'm here to bail him out." 

Adam's smile also froze as a result. "This friend you're talking about..."

"Could it be..."

"Indeed." Four voices came from the other end of the police station in unison.

Adam turned around, and saw Trent behind bars with Jordan outside; James turned around, and saw Andy behind bars with Virgil outside. The six of them stared at each other face-to-face-to-face-to-face-to-face-to-face for a while. Finally, Jordan was the first to figure out the logic behind all this, and asked, "You know each other?"

Adam glanced at James, then at Jordan, and explained, "We went to high school together."

"Both on the school team." James added.

"We played football for a year together. " Adam added.

"And won the city championship. " James added.

Jordan was just about to interrupt these two chiming in with each other, when the Spectacled Chief Officer spoke from behind his desk, "Well, have you reached an agreement yet? Are you going to court or not?"

Jordan looked at Trent, and then at Virgil, before looking at Adam and Adam's mate from high school, James, who were looking quite embarrassed; Jordan hurried to decline, "There's no need for that. Apologies for the trouble."

The Spectacled Chief Officer yawned lazily and said, "Alright, then come pay the fine, sign, and you're good to go."

As if on cue, Andy looked and Virgil who in turn looked at James. James sighed, took out a cheque from his briefcase to bail Andy out. While James and Andy were dealing with the paperwork, Virgil and Jordan exchanged numbers cordially, in order to take care of medical expenses in the near future.

Trent was finally released from his confinement, and couldn't avoid being chided by Jordan while checked for additional injuries on his head. However, Trent's mind was not on himself, but rather focused on peeking at the back of a Scotsman doing paperwork across the police station. After paying and signing, the Scotsman put down his pen, turned around, and caught his gaze. Trent immediately looked everywhere but directly at him, and thus missed how the other side glanced back at him.

After the police officer repeatedly warned them not to fight in the future, Jordan and Adam headed to the parking lot to get their cars, while Virgil and James went to call for taxis. The four of them quickly went in two different directions, leaving only Andy and Trent shivering in the cold wind in front of the police station. Andy wrapped his coat around himself while throwing glances at Trent. He didn't have time to take a good look back in that alley; now that he did, he realized Trent was a smartly dressed young lad, with neatly trimmed hair, and obviously a good student at school. He was probably going through a growth spurt - his muscles couldn't keep up with his increase in height, leading to a lanky appearance; he was also only wearing a thin jumper and shivering in the chilly wind, looking all the more adorable and pitiful.

Andy sighed, held back the impulse of taking off and handing over his own jacket, and gently asked, "Hey, ye really a virgin?"

The high school student peeked at him, bit his own lips, and said quietly, "That doesn't have anything to do with you, does it?"

It seemed he chose the wrong topic. Andy waved his hand and glossed over it, "Alright alright, let's not talk 'bout that then. " He paused, then said while scratching his head, "Hey, um, sorry for hitting you."

The high schooler gave him a cautious glimpse, lowered his big eyes - Andy had never met anyone with eyes larger than himself before - then he looked up once more, into Andy's eyes, his gaze causing Andy's ears to burn in the cold wind. The younger man said, sincerely, "I should apologize also. You were standing there at the time, and I really thought...Anyway, I'm truly sorry."

By now, Andy had long stopped doubting the sincerely in his apology. So he smiled and said, "I bet you haven't even been to that street before."

"I'm not old enough to enter nightclubs yet." Trent's answer was honest, as well.

"Don't do this again in the future. It's against the law. You're so young, there's no need to worry about finding a partner."

The kid was picking at his nails and replied gloomily, "Yeah, I know."

Afterwards they both went quiet, until Andy saw Virgil and James walking towards them. Then Andy finally asked, "Oi, are you free tomorrow?"

Trent immediately looked up, "Yeah, why?"

Andy saw how nervous he was, and smiled reassuringly, "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."

"Eh?" The kid opened his eyes wide in surprise, the warm streetlights gently swaying inside. "Really?" 

Andy sighed and nodded, "Yeah."

"You won't get someone to beat me up again?" Trent remembered the two heavily-built friends of Andy's from earlier. If the three of them get at him together, he'd be long dead by the time school starts in September. 

"No!" Andy's patience was running out again, and raised his voice as a result. Seeing the kid opposite him tremble in shock, he said in a more soothing tone, "You said you thought I looked handsome. I'm giving you a chance here." 

"Huh?"

Andy was both lamenting how difficult it was to communicate with teenagers, and finding the way the kid couldn't follow sort of cute. He ended up offering his hand and ordered, "Gimme your phone." Trent was obedient, took out his phone and handed it to him, without thinking whether or not this could be a robbery. Virgil was waving from afar and calling Andy to hurry up, since the Uber had arrived; he was ignored. Andy entered a string of numbers into the phone at lightning speed, and shoved it back into Trent's hand, "Call me by tomorrow afternoon. I'm off now, see ya tomorrow. " The Scotsman hurried away as soon as he finished speaking, leaving Trent alone in the wind, holding onto his phone and following the leaving figure with his eyes.

He didn't know how long he stood there staring, and only recovered himself he heard Jordan's voice next to him, "Trent, what are you smiling at?"

Trent held on tight to his phone, didn't respond, and allowed his mouth to stretch into a wide, silly grin.

-FIN-

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sure we all know who the spectacled chief inspector is. ;)
> 
> \---  
> Notes on word choice:  
> \- Do let me know if there's a more English way of saying "beating up"!
> 
> \- I looked it up and apparently "bouncer" is strictly American English, its British equivalent being "chucker-out" (a person whose duty is to throw troublemakers out of a bar or public meeting). It's a term I've never heard of, despite watching many UK shows. 
> 
> \- I have no idea if lawyers-to-be have a better term in the UK. I looked up and found out the solicitor is kind of like the apprentice/sidekick of the barrister in UK courts? And attorney is an US term. Anyway if you know what word is better than "intern" in this context, do let me know!
> 
> \- And sorry for possibly butchering Andy's accent, I tried :')


End file.
